


feel me, completer, down to my core (open my heart and let it bleed onto yours)

by girlsarewolves



Series: exchanges [47]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (in the monster-fearing/hating sense), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, F/F, Femslash, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Pseudo-Incest, Quentin and Dinah Lance were Flawed parents who maybe shouldn't have been parents, Sort Of, Werewolves, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: They never meant for it to happen. It sounds cliche, but it’s true. They aren’t even sure when exactly it did.They might remember the first time they kissed (clutching each other tightly after a hunt that for a moment too long felt like it was going south) or the first night they fucked (holed up in some cheap motel, too much whiskey and not enough food in their bellies, some primal need for physical intimacy overriding their not quite familial bond), but the moment they started to fall? The day they realized they didn’t just love each other but were in love?That’s a mystery.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Series: exchanges [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1269893
Kudos: 4
Collections: Fic In A Box





	feel me, completer, down to my core (open my heart and let it bleed onto yours)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



* * *

They never meant for it to happen. It sounds cliche, but it’s true. They aren’t even sure when exactly it did. 

They might remember the first time they kissed (clutching each other tightly after a hunt that for a moment too long felt like it was going south) or the first night they fucked (holed up in some cheap motel, too much whiskey and not enough food in their bellies, some primal need for physical intimacy overriding their not quite familial bond), but the moment they started to fall? The day they realized they didn’t just love each other but were in love?

That’s a mystery.

Maybe it was the result of growing up too close with too few contacts outside the family and the children of other hunters. Maybe it was just because they clicked in a way that made them perfect hunting partners. Probably it was the bone-deep level of trust between them from years of surviving and killing together, relying only on each other to get them through one chase after another.

Kara is grateful that they no longer get comments like the ones they received growing up (when other hunters who knew there was no blood shared between them would comment how easily they passed for sisters, her and the twins). Blonde hair and blue eyes are common enough, and if anyone bats an eye when they clutch hands or lean in too close to whisper and slip up with a little PDA, it’s just because they’re both women.

And those assholes can choke.

At one point Kara thinks she did look at Dinah like a litter mate. With Laurel, she still does, despite the striking similarities (though they’ve certainly put work into tailoring out differences between them). 

Over the years though, while her love for Laurel remained familial, it shifted between her and Dinah. From litter mate to pack mate. Somewhere along the line, Dinah became simply her mate (even though her parents, her blood kin, had told her their kind didn’t always mate like the humans romanticized, but Kara has always been a romantic at heart).

Sometimes she wonders if it’s a betrayal of the parents that took her in when others like them had simply left her for dead. They called her daughter and loved her like their own, and now she knows what one of their blood daughter’s tastes like between her thighs and what sounds she makes when she comes.

Dinah always tells her to shut up and stop dwelling on it. Whatever they might think doesn’t matter. “They’re dead now. Life’s for the living, right? And we get to choose how we live.”

Kara knows she’s right, but it doesn’t always slake the guilt that rises up sometimes (like the guilt that always accompanies the full moon and chains and finding someplace isolated and abandoned to bunker down in). Maybe she should believe Dinah when she says their parents weren’t perfect, and weren’t always the best judges of character. (Maybe she should believe Dinah when she says that the mercy they showed taking Kara in doesn’t negate the abuse they dealt out to deal with what Kara is.)

But they weren’t malicious, they were out of their depth. That’s what she tells herself, to cope with reconciling the shame they left ingrained in her and the safety they gave her.

“Better the guilt trips and making me hate myself than letting the others skin me like my pack,” she tells herself. She doesn’t bother saying anything like that around Dinah though, not anymore (not after Dinah squeezed her hands and made Kara look at her and swear she’d stop thinking like that, stop sweeping all their mistakes under the rug). She wants to tell Dinah she knows they weren’t perfect, but she also doesn’t understand the trauma Kara went through, the horror that they took her from.

(Maybe they locked her in the basement by herself on full moons, told her she was a monster on those nights, and had to hide it, but they also soothed her when she woke screaming from nightmares of silver cutting through hide, blood everywhere, the stench of burnt flesh heavy in her nostrils, in her mouth. Maybe they snapped and yelled at her when she caught a whiff of something mouth-watering and let her eyes slip, maybe they told her that was the sign of something dangerous and wrong, but they also held another hunter at gunpoint and told him where exactly they’d dump his body if he so much as looked her way again.)

“Pack life wasn’t always perfect parenting either,” she has told Dinah sometimes. “Blood and violence from an early age. So you get used to it. Accept it. Even those of us who didn’t prey on humans, well - did I ever tell you about my uncle who tried to go vegan?” She and Dinah laugh at that, at the idea of a vegan werewolf. “But he tried, when he was a kid.” She sobers up then, because it isn’t a funny ending, when he went rabid and almost killed a human child, when he slaughtered a whole herd of deer because he was so starved. 

Dinah is quiet then. Fingers stroking through Kara’s hair while she stares into the distance. Maybe she remembers her own parents letting her do something risky and stupid (because it was the only way she’d believe them when they told her ‘that isn’t how the world works, not for us’).

“I guess growing up hunters is fucked up, whether you’re human or not,” she whispered once, in the dark, when they were both pretending to sleep.

“Yeah,” Kara whispered back. “I think it is.”

They try not to get too deep about it anymore. Life is for the living, after all. Maybe they’re sunk down into the cycle, following in the footsteps of the predators that came before them, shaped them, raised them. Maybe they won’t find peace outside of this life, like Laurel did, but they’ve claimed bits and pieces of happiness, comfort, intimacy wherever they can.

On full moons, in abandoned places, Dinah stays with her during the change. Feeds her raw meat, strokes her fur so she doesn’t struggle much against the chains.

And in the mornings, she tells Kara she’s beautiful. Not a monster. “Maybe one day, you won’t have to be chained up.”

“I’ll never be tame like a dog.”

Dinah shrugs. “So what?” (She doesn’t have to say that she never will be either. That maybe they’re all just animals, finding their way through the woods.)

* * *


End file.
